Panic Attack In Progress

Originally this post was called Meditation. Then, as you read on, I have a mild panic attack while writing this...

One of the things I've learned this year is how important it is for me to meditate. Two years ago I would have wondered what kind of hippy-dippy new-age crap you were into if you would have suggested meditation to me. Being educated in a Christian college, of course, I'm aware that meditation is a very strong concept in the Christian tradition. But the evangelicals really don't talk about it, and if they do, they would say its just thinking about a particular Biblical passage a lot.

Ok. This is the coolest thing I've read. I either read it in James Finley's "Christian Meditation" or Fr. Richard Rohr's "The Naked Now." I don't have time to re-read both books to figure out which one it came from, and while I discovered these two authors seperately (Richard Rohr from my bff and James Finley on Chapters.ca) it turns out they're buddies anyway. They run silent retreats together. So its probably shared intellectual property.

Here it is: The proper Jewish name for God, as presented in the Pentateuch (first few/older books of the Bible) is YHWH. But the Jews would never pronounce it because it is too Holy a name to pronounce. (I already learned that part in Christian college). If one were to attempt to pronounce it, however, it sounds like breathing. Christians pronounce it Yahweh (ya-way), but to truly prounounce YHWH correctly, you basically inhale and exhale through your mouth. The very Name for God is the sound of the precious breath of life. Even in the first known religion of humankind (probably during the Adamic - Noahic period) God was called Ya... the giver of the breathe of life.

I LOVE that. And of course, breathing is the foundation of meditation.

Recommended time for daily meditation is about 45 minutes - 2 hours. Baaa-haaa-haa-haa. Obviously not for single working moms, or moms with multiple young children, or moms with high needs children. But I started meditating, in what I called an anemic practice, which apparently I'm not supposed to call it that because that's judging myself (self-hate). So apparently I can't even critisize myself properly (there's the self hate again!)

How do I really meditate?

Meditation, I've discovered, is really just about being in the moment... about taking in the full moment of life and all that it has to offer.  One Biblical passage calls it praying without ceasing. Fr Richard Rohr frequently calls meditation the deepest most experiential form of prayer. Being aware of what's happening in your body. Taking in the moment and letting it be. Being aware of your thoughts, without judging them. For all you Christians out there, its the whole "Be still and know that I am God." Which you can break into a pretty awesome haiku-ish meditation if your brain is going a bazillion miles an hour.

Goes like this:
Be.
Be still.
Be still and.
Be still and know.
Be still and know that.
Be still and know that I.
Be still and know that I am.
Be still and know that I am God.
Be still and know that I am.
Be still and know that I
Be still and know that
Be still and know.
Be still and.
Be still.
Be.
(got this exercise from Lorrie who is a Spritual Director. Forgot her last name. Beckie LaPointe on my FB can tell you).

While I was typing the paragraph before this I stopped for 60 seconds to take in what's really going on in reality around me. I heard Jed chewing. He's eating his dinner right now. Rachel Ray's "Chicken Noodle Soup - Hold the Soup" recipe. He still doesn't use cutlery. Only occaisionally does he eat out of a plastic bowl (and it still usually flies across the room). But I could hear him chewing on a piece of chicken. He chewed with his mouth open. The sound of him chewing his protein was heavenly music to my ears since these days he tends to just eat the pasta.
I can hear the creaking of the big element on the stove heating a giant pot of apple sauce in the kitchen. And it smells like heavenly apple pie. And then my perfect moment of peace is interrupted by one of Jed infantish/autistic shrieks, which always jarrs me. I worry that his autistic symptoms are getting worse. And then I realize I'm catastrophising a future that doesn't currently exist. It was just a shriek. He starts his diagnostic process next week. I've done all I could possibly do as a mother. And once again, he is not unhappy in this moment. I AM!.I am allowing fear to creep in. My heart starts pounding harder. I suddenly feel like I just want to DO SOMETHING to stop any hint of autism. I think I have to stop writing this post and what am I doing anyway? Writing this post when I could be preventing Jed's autism from getting worse?!

Breathe, Karen, breathe. (Yah - in. Weh - out). And with my breathing my thoughts return to the presence of God. Perfect love casts out fear. I believe that to be true. I allow the Love in, with every breath. Filling me. Surrounding me. The fear and anxiety fade into the background.

Here's where my meditation practice is at:
1. Very short increments. If I get in more than 20 minutes at a time, I'm ready to be called St. Karen.
2. By breathing. By listening to the sound of my breath. By focussing on the feel of my breathing.
3. By focusing on a natural object of nature. EVERYTHING in nature is constantly calling us to to our connection with God and all he has created. Birds. A brook. The breeze. The shape of a leaf. A bug. Whatever. Its all pretty mind-blowing stuff.

I meditated while I was peeling apples for Jed's apple sauce this afternoon. I just listened to the sound of the peeler and knife, penetrating the apple flesh. Its actually quite a grounding, comforting sound.

When I was getting my root canal a couple of days ago my dentist and I were talking about anxiety (mostly him talking... I was drooling and white knuckling the remote control for the t.v.). He said well over half of his patients are on an anti-depressant for anxiety. He said, "I don't think we're meant to live the way most of us live". In Jon Kabbat Zinn's book, "Full Catastrophe Living" he talks about how we humans used to have naturally meditative processes built into our lives. Before the invention of the car it was regular routine to walk at least 10 km's / day. Walking, when mentally present, is a naturally meditative process. At night, after the sun went down, there was nothing else you could do except sit around the fire. Maybe talk some.  But mostly it was just about staring into the fire. Fire is a naturally meditative tools. It slows us. Calms us. Puts us in a reflective place. Oh THAT's why we all love campfire so much! Yep! That's why! Firelog channel, anyone?